


Come To Weeping

by nao_lin



Series: Purpose of the Brute Divine [2]
Category: D.Gray-man, Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nao_lin/pseuds/nao_lin
Summary: Significant moments in the development of Kanda's relationship with Daisya, from the moment Kanda woke to their tutelage under Tiedoll and through the events of Purpose of the Brute Divine.Title and lyrics preceding each chapter taken from "Only If For A Night" by Florence + the Machine.(**will be organized chronologically as each work/chapter is completed)





	Come To Weeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they made love, they were fifteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, this is not the first chapter of Come To Weeping - it's (tentatively) the fourth - but I've had it sitting around for ages, finished, and figured, what the hell. It can be read as a stand-alone, but is very much a piece of background for Daisya and Kanda's relationship for Purpose of the Brute Divine as a whole. I'll be reordering everything... somehow... when I finally get my ass in gear and write the damn thing.
> 
> That said, only warning for this chapter would be that they're both underage.

_And my body was bruised, and I was set alight._

 

The first time they made love, they were fifteen. Tiedoll would have told them they were too young. Daisya would have told him that they were old enough, and Kanda would have told him that they could die any day - that they had been sent out to fight and maybe die by the Church, to fight for a god that claimed to love all but would condemn them. That they were child soldiers, so why couldn't they love, too, instead of just fight?

In the end, Daisya stole the words straight from his mouth; he must have taken them when he took his breath. Because he kissed like a hurricane, he did, chaotic and messy, desperate, but with traceable patterns of swirling weather and totally at ease, taking what he wanted and giving back just as much - and never once was he so violent like a storm could be.

He took them in the chapel one night, so late no one else would be there but him and Kanda, and he had asked what Tiedoll would think of this, of his gay sons, of his sinful children.

"He wouldn't care about that," Kanda answered. "He would just say we're too young to know anything."

And then the stolen words echoed off the walls, bouncing from stained glass window to stained glass window like jagged little bells. Kanda wondered, if Daisya yelled loudly enough, if God would hear him and have mercy, come down, smite the Earl and his akuma, let them free from this burden. Or maybe just kill them all.

He let Daisya yell until his words were spent, until he had exhausted his stores of English and then Turkish. Hearing him shout and scream at God in his mother tongue, with the harsher syllables a rough contrast to the softness of the others, roiling and boiling like a hot pot of water, was terrifying, but the spitting rage itself wasn't entirely surprising. Daisya was angry beneath the feigned idiocy and glitzy aura. It wasn't all a mask, but what of it that was was made of wax, and in the warmth of affection - and Kanda's coldness, so chilly it was burning hot - it melted away into the cracks below, smoothed out the bumpy surface of his emotions and left nothing but anger, flashing like a stormcloud ready to break open and crack lightning against the earth.

When he was done, Daisya slumped into the pew beside him, one arm slung over the back of the row in front of them, staring at the visage of the Holy Virgin behind the altar. Candlelight flickered in the silver hoop in his ear, enticing, reeling Kanda in the longer he stared until heat flushed through his entire body. Daisya didn't seem to notice.

"You really think he'd say that if we told him?" he eventually asked, turning his head to face him.

He was tired from his rage, eyes drooping, voice hoarse and throaty. Kanda blinked once, slowly, his attention dragged from glinting silver to glinting grey-green, and tried to think of an appropriate response.

"Yes," he replied at length. His eyes dropped to Daisya's lips, still red and slightly swollen from their previous kiss, and he could think of nothing else to say.

Daisya stared back. His own eyes only left Kanda's once, dropping to his mouth and immediately back up.

And then he surged forward, taking what he wanted and meeting no resistance. He pressed Kanda down onto the polished wood of the pew, mouth locked on like a missile ready to launch. One hand moved to Kanda's ponytail and tugged it free, letting the long locks tumble loose like a black and blue waterfall.

He only pulled away, panting, when the need for air became too great.

Kanda gazed up at him with wide eyes, lips parted, waiting for more. His hands didn't know what to do, whether to clutch at Daisya for dear life or to keep himself steady on the narrow bench. All he knew was that Daisya was hovering chest-to-chest above him, earring glinting, hair wild, eyes pleading, and looking like he would devour him whole if only Kanda would let him.

He would. He'd never admit it out loud, but likely he'd let Daisya do anything. The problem was finding the words to give him permission, because his voice no longer existed and all his words had been stolen besides.

So, in place of words, he curled a hand around the back of Daisya's neck and pulled him down for another bruising kiss.

Permission granted.

The next Kanda knew, they were on the floor in the walkway between the sections of pews, then scrambling back toward the open space in front of the raised partition where sat the altar. Daisya's mouth was on his neck, teeth sinking in until a bruise formed, once or twice drawing blood, but always soothing with a flick of his tongue.

Deft, calloused hands pushed under Kanda's shirt, hot like he was searing brands into his skin, and Kanda gasped out loud, and Daisya's mouth moved back to his, vibrating into his body with a deep, throaty groan.

Kanda's hands flung out to either side as pleasure impaled him from the sound down, searching for something to ground himself to reality, because this couldn't be real, this couldn't be happening, nothing this good could happen to him. All he found was cold, solid stone, and he much preferred Daisya's warm hands slipping his shirt off and drawing him away from it.

He gave in after that, content to pretend that nothing existed outside of this moment. He tugged Daisya's shirt off, gasping again when their bare chests met. Their whole bodies met with them, and he felt Daisya's arousal as well as he felt his own.

Daisya groaned into his mouth before kissing down his jaw, his neck, his chest, his stomach, biting bruises into the pale skin and kissing them like they meant the world.

How he kept his fingers so under control was a marvel, but he did it, pulling Kanda's trousers down as effectively and swiftly as he had his shirt, then taking care of his own and lowering his whole body back down.

Kanda watched his eyes flutter shut when they met. He wasn't immune to the pleasure roiling through his loins, but to see Daisya like this... He was always so full of energy, this was no exception, but only now did Kanda realize how much of himself he kept away, how much of that wax mask he wore. He couldn't fathom why - what did he have to hide? Didn't he know how lucky he was to have had a family, all alive and well, who loved him, to have had a home with them? Didn't he know how lucky he was to have left willingly, not to have been grown in a lab like him, or torn away from his only remaining family like Lenalee, or to have lost his sight so young like Marie?

Then a hand was between them, wrapping around them both, and all of Kanda's thoughts flew out of his head, save for the realization of why Daisya had moved them so close to the altar.

There was holy oil up there.

There was holy oil, and now Daisya was urging his thighs apart.

A laugh bubbled in Kanda's chest, although it didn't make it any further. Of course Daisya would want to go all the way in the bloody chapel, two boys with holy oil for lube and the Holy Mother watching. When had he ever half-arsed anything?

But laying there with his back pressed into the cool marble, bare feet planted on stone as unmarked as his skin formerly had been, strong thighs caging Daisya between them while long fingers worked him open with holy oil, exposed for everyone and their mothers - and, incidentally, God and his - to see, laying there like that... he felt beautiful for the first time, and it was too much of a relief to care.

He threw his head back when Daisya finally entered him, spine arching upward, mouth going slack, static in his brain. Daisya buried his face in his neck and groaned, loud and shameless like always. But his breath was stuttering, and Kanda couldn't tell if it was pleasure or something else.

It took only a whisper of his name to get him to move. Kanda let his eyes flutter shut and dug his fingertips into Daisya's back, holding on tight while he took them both apart.

 

Tiedoll was waiting at the door when they finally left. From the weary expression on his face and the fact that he was sitting against the inner wall with his glasses off, rubbing the heel of his hand tiredly against his forehead, it was apparent that he'd been there for quite some time and had heard everything perfectly clearly.

Daisya stopped in front of him, and he looked up.

For a moment, neither said anything, just glared half-heartedly at the other, too tired to make a real effort.

"This is all your fault, you know," Daisya told him simply.

Without waiting for a response, he left. Kanda watched him go, knowing he'd wait in the hall for him.

He turned back to face Tiedoll when the doors whispered shut. The General was staring at him with an indecipherable expression that unnerved him. He couldn't tell what it was, whether it was regret, sorrow, anger... or something else entirely.

"I heard everything," he eventually spoke. Kanda did not react, but was confused; they already knew that.

"I'm sorry," Tiedoll said next, softly.

He stood and sighed and replaced his glasses. "I am truly sorry," he said again, remorseful. He looked into the main of the chapel without really seeing it and added, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I wish it didn't have to be like this."

Then he walked into the chapel, slow and heavy like his boots were made of lead. He genuflected beside the last row of pews before he sat and began to pray. He didn't look back once.

Kanda watched him for a few moments, then joined Daisya in the hall. Daisya looked ready to fall asleep on his feet, and Kanda wasn't far off, so they slowly trudged through the dark corridors and endless stairs to Daisya's room. There, they stripped and crawled into Daisya's bed together, and within minutes were curled around each other, fast asleep.

 

(Tiedoll did have words with them the next day about making love in a chapel. But really, Daisya tried to convince him, that could only make it all the more holy. Especially since they'd used all the oil.)


End file.
